


Terrible Distractions

by Mrs_Don_Draper



Category: Django Unchained (2012)
Genre: Caught, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Don_Draper/pseuds/Mrs_Don_Draper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: Django giving Schultz little kisses on his neck while Schultz is trying to focus on shooting someone for a bounty. And Schultz is hissing at Django and trying to stop him from distracting him, which only goads Django even further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terrible Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> For nipplethief on Tumblr.

They have been waiting for John Malone for nearly three hours when Django starts getting restless. He casts a sidelong look at King, whose eyes remain firmly on the cabin door and the territory around it. Django lets out a sigh. Sweat is soaking his back and making him itch something fierce.

“We can always come back tomorrow, King. It's hotter than hell out here.”

“It's all about patience, young Django. We have to wait for just the right moment. If we leave now, it gives him more of a chance of discovering our whereabouts before we want him to.”

“Can we do something to pass the time other than lying in the dirt in 100 degree weather?”

“Not until Malone is dead.”

Django tries not to huff. He's all for killing slavers and murderers and rapists, but God's sake, can't they do something to take his mind off this heat? It makes him long for those cold winter months. Back when they would huddle for warmth and share blankets and maybe something more. It gives him an idea. He scoots closer to Schultz, trying to be nonchalant about it.

He's quiet and doesn't move for a whole five minutes before closing the minute gap between them and pressing his lips to King's cheek. Schultz must have been so wrapped up in concentration and his own thoughts that when he feels the kiss, he jumps in surprise.

“Very cute, Django,” King grumps.

He wipes his cheek off with the back of his hand and settles back into position with his rifle. He does not even look at Django a second time. Django wants to make him jump like a rabbit again. He sildes over to King's side again and presses another kiss, this time to his neck. This earns him a grunt of annoyance and another of his kisses is swiped away. No jump this time though; he had been expecting him to try it again. 

Undeterred, Django goes in for a third kiss, this time rolling King onto his back to heartily kiss his lips. Once King's short-lived surprise wears off, Schultz huffily rolls them so that he is on top, pinning Django to the ground. Django looks up at him with a devilish grin. The doctor looks vexed.

“Are you quite finished with this game or am I going to have to make you behave?”

Oh, did Django like the sound of _that_.

“Got something in mind, Doc?”

“I just might have,” he asnwers smugly.

Their lips meet again, but this time it is through King's own volition. King keeps his hands on Django's shoulders and his legs straddle the narrow waist below him. Django could overpower him if he really wanted to, but he likes the position he has found himself in and does nothing to stop things from progressing. It's been a while since they have done this, been so intimate. He finds that their dry spell had gone on long enough.

“I like it when you get rough with me, Doc. You don't make it hurt though. I like it,” he confesses, as King sucks a bruise onto the side of his neck. “Always feels real good.”

“Well, that is good to know, lad. Because I find myself to be quite frustrated of late, and you have done nothing to remedy the situation. You're a terrible distraction.”

Django chuckles while King goes back to kissing him with wandering hands to help out this time. The older man does not mean it of course. The cheeky smile spread across his face belied the words he spoke. Django almost calls him out on it when he feels capable hands undo their trousers. Now would be a good time to keep quiet, he reasons. Doc is always so good with his hands.

Without further ado, King spits in his palm—despite the fact that he finds doing so distasteful—and grips them in one sure hand. Django moans at the contact and delicious friction. Perfect. It's absolutely perfect. Scultz leans down to plant another kiss on Django's mouth.

“You tempter. We have a job to do, and look what you've got me doing. A terrible distraction,” he chides. “How can I work when your mouth can't keep still?”

The naughty implications are not lost on Django. And he moans with the sudden craving for King's mouth on him. The idea is fantastic. And either Schultz must be a mind reader or Django is simply transparent, but...

“Not today, lad. I'm more than close already. And you must be yourself. Come on now. Let it go so we can do our job. Come on.”

King's voice takes on an encouraging tone by the end of his sentence, and it makes them both keen when Django thrusts upwards. King only breaks eye contact once. He really is almost there. He wants King to keep talking.

“I know. I know it's not easy, Django. This helps, doesn't it? The release? Come for me, lad. Come for me _now_.”

His brain sort of shuts down before turning on even brighter than before, warmth bursting through him in waves. He feels wetness hit his belly and hears King moan his own pleasure, hands wringing out every last drop of pleasure from the both of them. Schultz slumps forward a bit before getting his wits back enough to remember to take a handkerchief from his pocket to clean them both off.

“Better now?”

He refastens his trousers once he's cleaned himself off. He has to admit that he feels better too.

Django opens his eyes with a lazy smile.

“Mmhmm.”

“Good.”

And quick as lighning, King lunges for his rifle, takes aim, and fires off a shot. The sudden movement and noise jolts Django back awake. Quickly doing up his own pants, he moves to see a very dead John Malone, lying in a growing puddle of his own blood thirty yards from their location.

“I didn't even—,” Django begins to say, feeling guilty now for being a distraction. That had been a close one. Almost _too_ close.

“I know. Why do you think I said 'come now'? I saw the cabin door open.”

“You mean while we was...?”

“Yes, Django. The last thing John Malone saw was a foreigner and a former slave fucking in his front yard.”

And in that moment, Django knew he could never make such a mistake again, but imaging the look on John Malone's face almost made it worth it. The look on King's face when he came definitely did. They would just have to make sure to be more careful next time. After all, King never said not to distract him _off_ the job.


End file.
